Free With Violets by Elizabeth Robards

in that unfashionable hat.
    Maman, Madame Chevalier, and Madame Manet sit in the background chatting. They do not prove to be a distraction to

    Édouard during the morning’s preliminary setup, but as the day wears on, and he begins to put charcoal to canvas, he grows visibly tense, occasionally looking over his shoulder at them.
    “Are you all right Mademoiselle Berthe?”
    His question startles and embarrasses me out of my trance. Although I have been daydreaming, I know very well he has not asked after the others’ well-being.
    I adjust my pose, but try to sit straight. True, I am growing tired of holding the same position, but I won’t complain. I knew what was expected of me before I agreed to the task.
    “I am fine, merci .”
    Although, I suppose I forgot how exhausting it could be to sit in one position for hours. I heard Monsieur Guillemet fidgeting behind me.
    “Antonin, please stop moving about. I am trying to capture your pose.”
    Guillemet groaned. “My friend, we have been here for hours, it seems. I believe I speak for everyone when I say we need a rest.”
    “Bear with me for a few more moments . . .”
    Édouard’s words trail off, and his “few more moments” stretch on like a river meandering without an end.
    I gaze at the fan until my eyes water. My arm is falling asleep and I want so badly to shift, but I do not dare after Édouard reprimanded Monsieur Guillemet. Careful not to move, I glance at Maman and try to catch her eye. I want her to know I am concerned about her comfort after sitting for such a long time. Surely, her back hurts.
    “Mademoiselle —” Édouard looks up. “Mademoiselle Berthe, I realize your kindness to pose for me is taking you away from your own work. I do appreciate it. Are you planning on entering anything in the Salon this year? ”
    “It is only July, Monsieur. Too early for me to decide.”

    “ Au contraire, Mademoiselle, it is never too early to have a goal in mind.”
    I am embarrassed by his attentions. He had been so quiet until now. His sudden interest in my plans, our conversation in general, seems too conspicuous.
    I am glad he has me angled away from Fanny Claus. That way I do not have to look at her, or what might be worse, I do not have to make an effort to not look at her.
    “Perhaps it is a good thing I do not have a goal in mind. For if I did, I should not be so content to sit here and ponder it when time in the studio would be the only action that would help me reach that goal.”
    He nods. “Very well then. Here’s to not having a Salon goal in mind so that I may freely monopolize your time.”
    He laughs at his own wit and I smile back. I could only guess what the other two are doing, as neither of them makes a sound.
    It strikes me that aside from the overly loud talking, Madame Manet has not interrupted him even though it must be nearing lunchtime. I thought certain Édouard would suggest a break soon, but he seems lost in his sketching, tossing the occasional annoyed glance over his shoulder as the ladies laugh a little louder than they should or get carried away talking at the same time. They seem to be having a grand time. I am glad because Maman looks less like she is burdened by the obligation to be here for me and very much like she is enjoying the company of new friends.
    “There, that should suffice for today.” Édouard sets down his charcoal stick and steps back to view his work. “We shall reconvene tomorrow for a longer day.”
    I am not at all sure if I want to see how he interprets me. I cannot say why, other than we seldom view ourselves as others do. One’s personal interpretation seems so intimate, although

    I’ve never thought of it that way before. I am not quite sure I am prepared to know how he views me, silly as it seems. Eventually, I will know.
    The others move about. The three elder ladies crowd around the easel.
    Maman peers through her lorgnette and cocks her head to one side. From her pursed mouth and